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by yocatrina



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Other, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:40:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5585731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yocatrina/pseuds/yocatrina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a short portion of gaby's day</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> this was written for beccs aka spxcialagent.tumblr.com :-)

She loved being a mechanic more than anything in the world. Under this car, she felt at home. She loved the smell of the oil, the sound of the tools, the calm it brought her. She loved the familiarity of it all, the way her hands moved as if thinking of their own. Illya and Napoleon made sure not to bother her during her time in the garage, and it was the only time she felt truly at peace. A faint chirp distracted her. She got out from under the jaguar she was remodelling and saw Balthazar staring at her from the window. This pigeon was a curious thing. Every thursday, it would come and tap on the window until Gaby slowly opened it and fed the animal. Napoleon taught her how to domesticate it: first, you observe it from afar in a non threatening way; second, you leave food on the window sill while it watches; third, you put seed in your hand and feed it. Obviously, every step took several weeks, but after a while, she grew fond of it and decided to name it. Balthazar would even let her pet its feathers. She took it in her hands and brought it in the house. Balthazar immediately flew to Napoleon’s shoulder. Napoleon smiled, “Hello, little guy.” Illya stepped into the living room and put out a hand to pet Balthazar, but Napoleon took a step back.

“It flew on my shoulder, Peril. If it wanted you to pet it, it would have flown on yours,” Napoleon smirked.

Illya rolled his eyes, “You were the only option available. If it had seen me first, it obviously would have flown on my shoulder.”

Gaby observed the scene and smiled fondly. While they were arguing, she chuckled, and they both turned their heads in her direction, completely quiet.

Illya looked her up and down, “You were never so well dressed,” he said sarcastically.

Gaby looked at her outfit out of habit, as if she had forgotten that her clothes were stained with oil. She responded, “I’m very good at this. Next time we go shopping, I’ll pick something out for you.”

Illya shook his head, “Not until I die, Gabriella.”

She sat down on the nearest couch and Napoleon gasped, “Do not put your greasy, disgusting clothes on my beautiful couch, Teller.”

Gaby sighed and got up, “It’s our couch. As in, it belongs to Illya, you, and me.”

Illya looked at Napoleon briefly before returning his gaze to Gaby, “I’m afraid I agree with Napoleon.”

Gaby raised her hands in forfeit, “Fine. I’ll change.”

She only had time to go up five stairs before Illya called out to her, “Spider.”

Napoleon added, “Furry. I can’t touch it.”

Gaby smiled and gently picked the spider in her hands. “Kill it,” Illya urged.

Gaby shook her head, “I don’t want to hurt it. I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”  
Napoleon and Illya breathed out in unison, relieved. In that moment, Gaby felt at home for the first time outside of her garage.


End file.
